


which one of you is the one you are

by leighbot



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Hate to Love, Kid Fic, Louis and Eleanor are British the others are American, M/M, Meet-Cute, well hate to flirty more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>A fortnight in America and Louis’ craved In-N-Out Burger every day. He tells himself it has nothing to do with a certain sharp-tongued and prickly-tempered pretty lad but he’s only partially lying.</i><br/>Or, Louis’ a Brit in America who is just trying to raise his daughter and excel at work. A pretty man and terribly unhealthy fast food are trying to make his life difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	which one of you is the one you are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catholicschoolgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catholicschoolgirl/gifts).



> this is… not anything like the prompt, really. this whole story grew around the interaction in the restaurant between them. i’d set out to write a sweet, summer-love fic and wrote this instead! i don’t know how it happens (blame louis, he gets sassy in this).
> 
> thanks to [T](http://treezrgreen.tumblr.com/) for the preread. all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> title taken from good burger, naturally. also, i’ve never been to in-n-out burger, but many videos on youtube indicate they’re amazing. i hope i do it justice!

Late, they’re so bloody late and Eleanor is going to _kill_ him. She’s literally given him one task and he’s already messing it up. Louis grips Langston’s hand, tugging her along behind him.

“Mum’s gonna be mad,” the six-year old reminds him as she half-jogs along, shirt askew and backpack hanging off of one shoulder.

“Yes, thanks Lan,” he laughs, stopping them just outside the doors of the imposing elementary school and setting his daughter to rights before a teacher sees them. He takes her backpack in his hands so Langston can tuck in her shirt and shrug down her kicky skirt, the warm September weather making Louis sweat at his temples though it’s not just past eight in the morning. “Ready?” he asks when she stops fidgeting.

“Ready,” she confirms, smiling wide and showing off where one front tooth is missing.

Louis takes her hand again, leading her into the school and then letting Langston guide them to her classroom. He hasn't taken his daughter to school since nursery back home in the UK, has only just got off a plane from Heathrow the night before, and he's proud of himself for having found the old, weathered building at all. He glances up at the ornately painted ceilings, feeling like he's back studying business at Warwick instead of dropping off his first grader.

"Don't you lot just finger paint all day?" Louis asks.

"Dad, no," she laughs as if that’s a ridiculous notion, stopping outside one of the rooms at last. She raises her hand, gripping and turning the knob while Louis raises his own and knocks quickly. The door swings open and Louis first sees a sea of little heads turn to look at the interruption and then the teacher at his desk, curly brown hair tied back with a headrag as he stands and approaches.

"We were just wondering where you'd gotten to, Langston. How are you?"

"I'm okay, daddy was late," she tattles, taking her bag from Louis with a sly look before making her way to what must be her cubby to drop it off before she heads to her desk.

“Thanks for the solidarity, kid,” Louis laughs, watching Langston until she’s seated.

"Is that so? It was your fault?" The teacher says, a smile on his face.

“A bit,” Louis admits, holding out his hand for the teacher to shake. “Louis Tomlinson. Eleanor’s told me a lot about you.”

“Harry Styles. Your wife has been great about getting Langston up-to-speed. Starting even just a week late can really set students behind, but Eleanor is always working with her.”

“We’re not married,” Louis says, the words flowing out easily after more than six years, “but, yeah, we were both surprised that the schooling was so intense.”

“We like to get students prepared for the real world as quickly as possible,” Harry says, voice completely serious and face sincere.

Louis bites back the snarky comment he’d like to make about expecting six year olds to prepare for real life when he’s twenty-six and terrible at it, but he just smiles instead and quickly makes his exit, turning for one last look at Langston before the door closes.

He’s not looking where he’s going as he rushes out, head ducked to type a text to Eleanor that ‘ _yes_ , he’s dropped her off at school’ and ‘ _yes_ they were a bit late’ and even a ‘ _yes_ , her teacher is fit but talks a bit slow and is entirely too earnest’. He takes a corner blindly, estimating his general whereabouts, and ends up smacking into a solid body at full-speed.

“What the fuck?” he hears, a loud but mumbled American accent cutting through the otherwise quiet air.

The echo through the empty halls seems almost endless and Louis looks up, stopping short at the sight before him of what might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” he says, completely awkward.

The man looks at him, panting as if he’d been running too but glaring at Louis as if it’s his fault only that they collided, but Louis honestly doesn’t even mind. The man’s amber eyes are bright in his anger and his hair is black and styled long on top and shorn on the sides, an aesthetic Louis couldn’t pull off if he’d tried but looks edgy and cool on the stranger. He’s wearing a leather jacket over what appears to be a uniform, shirt and trousers both pressed and bright white with a red logo over the right side of his chest.

“Can I help you with something?” the man asks, crossing his arms when he notices Louis staring.

“Sorry, mate,” Louis smiles, trying to be charming.

Clearly having none of it, the man snaps “Watch where you’re going,” before he stomps off.

Louis stares at him, half in lust from his looks and sharp attitude but mainly confused. He glances at his phone, still in the middle of the text to Eleanor about Langston’s teacher. He backspaces until it’s clear and types out, ‘just met someone fit enough to put the teacher to shame.’

He makes his way to the carpark and his four by four, sliding his seatbelt on before his phone vibrates again.

‘you in love already, babe?’

He types out ‘you don’t know me’ before starting the truck and shifting into drive, merging seamlessly into the Bay Area traffic. He turns on the radio for his drive, only half-listening as he contemplates how quickly the last few years had gone, his baby daughter somehow already in the first grade.

When Eleanor had gotten pregnant the summer after she graduated, he’d known immediately that his life was changed forever. Though he and El hadn’t lasted, their first priority has always been Langston and they’ve adjusted accordingly. Louis had been working at Lockheed Martin for almost four years when they’d come to him at the beginning of the summer, asking him to transfer to their California offices and front the market analysis team for their space systems department for two years.

It had been the type of position he’d been working towards since leaving Warwick with top marks, and Eleanor had agreed to the move. She had her journalism degree and ran a fashion blog on the side, so she had assured Louis she could work from anywhere and had even come out to California before him so Langston could get started in school.

He hums a piece of the song playing on the radio, contemplating how he can best thank El for everything she’s done for him. Getting her a date with Langston’s fit teacher would probably be frowned upon, but he could at least try it, he reasons to himself.

He pulls into the lot for his new office, handing over his badge and identification at the gate while his truck is quickly scanned before he’s waved through. He’s moved offices before, doesn’t even feel nervous about starting somewhere new as he grabs his messenger bag from the passenger seat and heads into the building.

Instantly, he’s verified at another security checkpoint, this one taking a little longer before a man in a sharp business suit and glasses comes down to greet him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Tomlinson. I’m Liam Payne and I’m your VP for this assignment.”

“Just ‘Louis’ is fine. Have you been tasked with showing me around?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t bother,” Louis says, grabbing his messenger bag after its thorough scan and inspection, tossing it over his chest and heading off in the direction from which Liam had come. “All Lockheed’s buildings look the same after a while,” he says over his shoulder when he hears Liam keeping pace with him. “You get used to view outside the windows changing while everything on the inside stays the same.”

“I’ve never worked at any other locations,” Liam admits. “Got recruited my senior year of college and I’ve been here since, almost six years.”

“You never wanted to travel?” Louis asks as they slip through a set of double doors, passing a group of people heading the opposite way.

“I wouldn’t mind if I had to, but I’m settled here.”

“Got a family?”

The way Liam’s face lights up makes Louis smile. “A wife and two daughters. You?”

“A daughter, Langston. My ex is amazing about everything, even moved out here with us. I actually need to find a way to thank her, any ideas?”

“I’ll ask Soph.”

They step into their office block, Liam needlessly pointing out the office marked with Louis’ name. “Let me get settled in and we’ll have a meeting with the team at ten.”

Liam nods and leaves, closing the door behind him. Louis can see the curious glances from the other employees through the glass walls of his office. He doesn’t look up at them, just gets his desk organized and boots up his laptop, connecting to the company’s secured network and going over the numbers for the space systems division and trying to find the weak spots in the products being developed.

~*~

After a successful meeting in which Louis thinks he’s managed to impress the eight people under him, he’s back at his desk and putting together some notes when there’s a knock on his door.

“Hey, Liam.”

“Hi, didn’t want to bother you, but Soph had a couple ideas for thank you gifts.”

Louis looks up again, smiling wide and clearing his desk. “Ace, what are they?”

Liam grins and comes through the doorway, settling into a stuffed armchair on the opposite side of Louis’ desk. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through as he reads off some of her ideas. They are mostly generic, sweet things like flowers and spas, but then Liam reads off something that catches his attention.

“What was the last thing again?”

“Artwork,” Liam repeats. “Soph says it might be nice to decorate her new place, since she most likely still has blank walls if she hasn’t had time to shop around over the past weeks.”

“That’s actually brilliant,” Louis says, excited. “Eleanor loves art and I was at her place last night to get Lang. Your wife is right, the walls are completely blank.”

Liam smiles, a bit smug as if to say his wife is always right, and Louis rolls his eyes, already quite fond of his puppy-eyed VP. “Sophia’s got our place decorated with a lot from this one guy, a dude she met at an art fair. I’ll send over his details, see if Eleanor would like it?”

“Sounds great, but let’s deal with a more pressing issue: where can I get a really great burger?”

Liam repeats the word in Louis’ accent, giggling when he totally messes it up. “You ever been to In-N-Out?”

~*~

On the outside, the In-N-Out Burger near their office building looks like every fast food joint he’s ever seen, but then they step inside and he’s overwhelmed with the scent of food- greasy like the best summer barbeque- and he sees the employees decked out in pressed white shirts and trousers, red aprons and red logos on their hats, and Louis remembers the man he’d run into in Langston’s school.

He looks around but doesn’t see the sharp jawline or the swoop of black hair. He frowns slightly but changes it to a grin when Liam glances over at him.

“Excited to try it?”

He can’t help but answer Liam’s enthusiasm with some of his own, nodding and getting into the queue for the cash register. It’s busy, but the blond lad taking orders is smiley and cheerful as well as quick, so they’re soon stepping up.

“How are you doing today?” the lad asks, smiling bright and wide.

“Good mate, how’re you?” Louis answers, glancing over the menu again.

“An Englishman! I’m Niall, I’ll be taking your order. First time today?”

“Yep, what do you recommend?”

Niall lists a few things, California accent fast and sometimes hard for Louis to understand but he thinks he hears ‘animal style’ about the fries and he nods, intrigued. He looks over his shoulder as Liam orders, noting the lack of people behind them. Taking a chance, he turns back to face Niall.

“I met someone earlier who works here. I don’t know if it’s here-here or another one,” he begins, feeling silly but he’s always had less shame than he should so he presses forward. “Dark hair, pretty eyes, sharp jaw?”

Niall beams wider, if possible. “Zayn,” he says with a nod. He rings up Liam’s order on the register, looking up at them after a second. “He gets a few admirers every once in a while. He’s in the back now, I’ll call him up when your food’s ready if you’d like.”

“Is that really juvenile?” Louis asks, never feeling his age as much as now, when he’s semi- on the pull and feeling like he’s back to passing notes in primary school.

“Eh,” Niall shrugs. “It’s kind of cute, if a bit sad.”

Louis groans around a laugh, letting Liam lead him away to the soda fountains.

“These burgers better be worth the embarrassment,” Louis says.

Liam just laughs.

A few minutes later, their order’s being called out and Louis heads to the counter. The man from the school is stood there with a tray in his hands, his eyes flickering in recognition when he sees Louis step forward.

“Hi,” Zayn says, putting the tray of food down, an awkward smile on his face. “You’re all set.”

“Yeah, cheers,” Louis says. “Hey-“ he says when Zayn makes to turn away, causing him to look back over his shoulder. “My daughter goes to Sunnyvale Academy. Do you have a child that goes there?”

“No,” Zayn answers shortly.

“Oh, okay.”

There’s an awkward silence for a moment, Niall looking over at them instead of taking the order from the person standing in front of him.

Louis tries again, forcing a smile on his face and the heat from his cheeks. “I’ve just moved here from London.”

“You think you’re pretty impressive, huh?” Zayn asks, eyes narrowed.

“I mean,” Louis shrugs, feigning nonchalance and using his best flirty grin, “I _do_ work in Silicon Valley.”

Zayn laughs at that, but it isn’t in an answering flirty way. Instead, it’s sharp and sassy, no humor behind it. “Newsflash: I do too.”

And, oh. Louis hadn’t really thought of it that way. Before he can try to do damage control and explain he was just trying to make a joke, Zayn’s already speaking again.

“And no one who works in ‘Silicon Valley’ calls it that, you just sound like an asshole. And you’re not better than me just because you have a fancy job and wear ill-fitted suits.”

“No, I’m not trying to say I’m better than anyone-“ he tries before the rest of the sentence catches up to him. “My suit isn’t ill-fitting.”

Zayn scoffs and Louis gets irritated. “I’m sorry for knocking into you earlier, but I don’t know why you’re so hostile.”

“Okay,” Niall steps in, smiling as he gets closer. “This was maybe a bad idea.” He gives Louis an apologetic look as Zayn turns around to start putting together another order. “Sorry, man, I dunno. Maybe today’s just a bad day.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too.” Louis gives one last, long look at the way the pressed shirt pulls at his shoulders and the shocking black of a tattoo peaking over his collar before he turns and heads back to Liam, who is waiting at the table with a hopeful look on his face.

“How’d it go? Was it him?”

“It was him, alright,” Louis says, dividing their food up. “I don’t know if I offended him somehow but he was kind of an arse.”

“Oh well,” Liam says, shrugging and smiling. “The food is worth it, promise.”

And, as Louis inhales the burger and messy carton of cheese-topped fries, he has to agree.

~*~

His next few days of dropping Langston off go much smoother than the first had, and he doesn’t run into Zayn- literally or figuratively- again.

Eleanor laughs at him when he finally tells her about the man in his text, relaying the story over a glass of wine on Friday night after Langston’s gone to bed.

“Oh, Lou, you were always one to fall in love at first sight.”

“That’s not true,” Louis protests.

“You did with me,” she counters.

“You’re different. You’re- y’know. Plus, I was twenty-two. It all worked out in the end, anyway.”

“Yeah, it did. Never thought I’d be moving to California with a man who isn’t my husband.”

Louis laughs, topping off her glass despite her protests. He does to same to his own, taking another sip as he looks around at all of the blank walls. “You should decorate.”

Her gaze follows his, as if she’s registering the walls for the first time. “Hadn’t really gotten around to it. Wasn’t sure where to look.”

“Liam’s wife uses this one guy, she was raving about him. I could get his info for you, if you like.”

“Can’t hurt,” she agrees.

~*~

A fortnight in America and Louis’ craved In-N-Out Burger every day. He tells himself it has nothing to do with a certain sharp-tongued and prickly-tempered pretty lad but he’s only partially lying. The food had been good- and Niall’s decision to give him the animal style fries was life changing- but he passes another of the same restaurant on his drive to Eleanor’s place and he hasn’t stopped once.

It’s so sad that even Eleanor stops teasing him about his irrational and ill-founded crush.

She doesn’t pity him enough to stop asking him for favours, however. Which is how Louis finds himself in his truck with Langston singing in the backseat, driving to the artist friend of Sophia’s house to pick up a painting of the London skyline that El had commissioned.

He pulls up in front of a modest brick ranch-style home, helping Langston down from the cab and heading up the drive to the front door. Lang’s babbling on about something, a birthday party she’s been invited to by one of her classmates, he thinks, and he’s bending down to straighten her jacket out as the door is opening.

“Louis, I presume?” a mumbled voice asks, and Louis looks up from his kneel to see the familiar sweep of black hair and eyelashes that’s been plaguing him for two weeks. Zayn’s eyes get cold when he recognizes Louis, but his eyes flicker down to Langston and he pastes a smile on his face.

“Hi,” Louis says as he stands. “I didn’t know you were the artist friend.”

“What you don’t know about me could fill a _book_ ,” Zayn says, his tone falsely sweet.

Louis frowns, opening his mouth to retort when a small head peeks around Zayn’s hip. Instantly, Langston squeals and rushes forward, both little girls tossing their arms around each other like long-lost soldiers returning home from battle.

“Erm,” Zayn says, icy demeanor cracked as he looks at the scene before him in confusion. “Amna, you know her?”

“It’s Langston, duh,” the little girl answers, smiling up at Zayn. “Can we go play in my room, _please_?”

Baffled, Zayn looks up and meets Louis’ eye. “For a moment,” he answers.

Instantly, the two girls take off down the hall, their shoes slapping against the hardwood floors.

Zayn, having stepped back to let them pass, motions for Louis to come inside. He does, smiling and taking in the nicely decorated front sitting room. He looks back at Zayn. “Thought you didn’t have a kid at Sunnyvale.”

He hadn’t meant to say it- doesn’t need to give Zayn any further reasons to dislike him- but he can’t stop the words before they’re out.

Zayn, for his part, doesn’t react much. He shrugs as he shuts the door. “Amna’s my niece, I didn’t lie. Didn’t know she was in the same class as your daughter.”

They stand in awkward silence for a moment. Then, Zayn seems to snap back to focus.

“Painting’s through here,” he says, jerking his head. “Follow me.”

He leads Louis into a back room, the sound of the girls playing getting louder until they turn into what appears to be Zayn’s studio. Eleanor’s piece is startling obvious, the silhouette of a skyline standing out from the graffiti-like painting done directly on the walls surrounding it. He bypasses the piece, stepping up to a particularly colourful patch of wall.

“This is incredible,” he says, looking at the characters Zayn’s created. There’s a sharp-jawed batman, a blue creature with big eyes and a few rudimentary looking robots splashed on the otherwise white walls. He brings his hand up, fingers hovering over a robot but not touching.

“Thanks,” Zayn says from behind him.

“Do you have any pieces in this style? I’d actually quite like one.”

“ _You’d_ like one of my tags?”

“Sorry,” Louis says, interpreting the disbelief in Zayn’s tone as offense. He drops his hand and steps back, looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to- obviously they may not be for sale.”

“They’re for sale,” Zayn cuts in.

“Just not to me?” Louis finishes, a frown twisting his mouth.

“Man, you want to give me your money, that’s fine by me.”

The nonchalant way Zayn says it, with a shrug and broody expression, irritates Louis further. He doesn’t know what slight he’s done to cause this level of offense but he’s never reacted particularly well to being disliked and he feels as if the hair on the back of his neck is standing at attention.

“Is there some specific reason you dislike me or are you this much of a twat to everyone you meet?”

Zayn visibly bristles, stepping off the wall he’d been leaning against. “You’re so damn pretentious, acting like you’re superior to everyone all the time.”

“And you know this exactly how? From the two minutes you’ve spent in my presence?”

“Long enough.”

“Mate, I don’t _get_ it. I’m a nice guy. I’m sorry I bumped into you-“

“It’s not that.”

“Then what could it bloody be because I’m at a complete loss-“

“It’s the way all you dads are at that school!” Zayn shouts, the sound of the girls playing instantly disappearing. “You act like you’re all better than me because you went to Harvard- or probably Cambridge, in your case- and you pay for your kids to get in there, meanwhile brilliant little girls like Amna have to take monthly tests to prove they’re smart enough for your bullshit elementary school just because her mum can’t afford it. It’s a bullshit system meant to keep those on the bottom where they are, and raise those at the top into the fucking clouds.”

He’s breathing hard when he’s done, cheeks ruddy and eyes bright. Louis’ jaw is dropped, can feel the slack, and he doesn’t know what to say.

So he, of course, says the entirely wrong thing.

“I went to Warwick.”

“ _What_?” Zayn says, voice hoarse from his yelling.

“I didn’t go to Cambridge.”

Zayn stares at him for a moment, eyes wide before he suddenly smiles and lets out a loud laugh.

Louis’ confused, feels like he’s in an episode of _The Twilight Zone_. "What have I missed?" he asks.

"Let me guess," Zayn starts, but his voice is much gentler now and he looks years younger with a teasing grin on his face, "Warwick is still a bit of a hoity-toity rich man's college?"

"It's... a bit fancy," Louis admits, smiling himself. Zayn's giggling still, back to leaning against the door. "I'm not a complete arse, though," he protests. "Me mum raised me better than that. I was a scholarship kid myself. I definitely don't- I would never look down on you or anyone else because of their income."

Zayn's giggles stop, a rueful smile on his face. "I guess I misjudged you. I saw the suit and wingtip shoes- who _wears_ those anyway- and maybe overreacted."

A little voice sounds from the doorway.

“Daddy? What’s wrong?”

He turns and sees Langston, eyes wide and damp as if she’s about to cry. He realizes they’ve probably scared them from their shouting, and he crosses the room to her quickly.

“Everything’s fine,” he assures her, even as Zayn passes them to cross into Amna’s room and speaking to her softly.

"Can I still come to Amna's birthday party?" Langston asks him.

"Please," Amna asks, leaving Zayn's side and crossing over to Louis. "Langston's my _very_ best friend."

"Oh, is that right?" he asks, looking down and trying to smile, finding it easy when he sees fringe so dark it's nearly black falling in front of Amna's warm brown eyes. "Langston would love to come to your party."

"Will you be there, too?" she asks.

"Either me or Lang's mum."

"You should come," Zayn says. "Eleanor, too. But. You for sure. Let me make it up to you that I've been a bit of a- what was the word you used earlier?"

Louis laughs. "Not really appropriate for little ears," he says.

"Daddy, did you call Amna's uncle a bad word?" Langston asks him, aghast.

"Yes, Daddy did," he responds even as Zayn starts to deny it. "Daddy and Zayn got off on the wrong foot because we didn't understand each other."

"You should still be nice," she says, all the wisdom of a six year old at her disposal.

“You’re right.”

“I think you should have to say something nice now to fix it.”

“That seems fair,” Zayn says, smirking.

“No comments needed from the peanut gallery, thank you,” Louis quips back.

“Now you have to say _two_ things,” Amna decides.

“You better hurry, or it might go up to three,” Zayn says.

“You’re a good artist and your home is lovely,” Louis rattles off quickly.

“Those are kind of cop-outs, bro. Aren’t you going to tell me I’m pretty?”

Louis is about seventy-five percent sure Zayn’s joking, but he still feels his cheeks heat anyway. Zayn must see, because his smirk is back, replacing the simpering expression he’d worn when he was teasing.

“Anyway, best be off,” Louis says, placing a hand on Langston’s back. “Go say goodbye to Amna, you’ll see her in school on Monday.” The two little girls hug like Monday is so far away- though, Louis supposes, it kind of is when you’re six- and he steps back into Zayn’s studio.

“I’ve got a tarp we can put on it,” Zayn offers from behind him. “Get it wrapped up for you. I’ll help you put it in your truck.”

“Thanks.”

They don’t talk for a moment as they adjust the covering over the painting and carefully carry it out the front door and into the truck bed. The girls come to the door after them, hugging once more before Langston runs out to Louis’ side.

“Thank you, for everything again,” Louis says, holding out his hand for Zayn to shake.

Zayn looks at it a moment before reaching out as well. His palm is soft. Louis focuses far too much on the fact that Zayn’s palm is warm and soft where it presses against his. He holds on a beat too long, before awkwardly letting go.

“Right, cheers,” he says, turning around and opening the truck door, letting Langston hop up and settle into her booster seat. He double-checks the strap on instinct.

“Hey,” Zayn says, closer behind Louis than he’d expected.

He turns.

“Let me give you my number,” Zayn says, the overhead sun glowing against his dark skin as he reaches a hand out expectantly. It takes Louis a moment to realize, fumbling out his phone and passing it over. “In case you want to talk about any more pieces, or something,” Zayn says, hardly subtle when he flicks his gaze up to meet Louis’ eyes, smirk on his lips.

“You didn’t like me an hour ago,” Louis says, no doubt sounding a bit dumb.

“I don’t like you _now_ ,” Zayn agrees, handing the phone back. “But you seem kind of funny and you’re cute. I’ll let you buy me dinner, or something. Since you work in Silicon Valley and all.”

Oh, but Louis will probably never live that down. He finds himself grinning anyway, pocketing his phone and stepping up into the driver’s seat.

“From what I hear, only ‘assholes’ call it that,” Louis teases, trying to mock Zayn’s accent on the word.

It gets a good reaction from Zayn, a silly grin with his tongue pressed against the back of his top teeth. He mock salutes as Louis starts up the truck, backing away as he shifts into drive.

Louis doesn’t look out the mirrors at him as he pulls away- he _doesn’t_. He does, however, choke on nothing but air when Langston pipes up from the backseat. She’s learned her sassiness from him and her perceptiveness from Eleanor. It’s quite a deadly combination.

“If you marry Amna’s uncle, does that mean she’ll be my sister?”

He barely survives his coughing fit, he’s sure, and he doesn’t dignify the question with a response.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
